The Payback for Freedom
by SophieSaulie
Summary: An AU for Season 1. Sam is at Stanford with Jess and Dean is working with dad. Dean hears of a monster in Palo Alto and heads there to save Sam, but is hurt in the process. Guilt and angst ensue.
1. Chapter 1

**The Payback for Freedom**

**Chapter 1:**

Sam had been staring at the same page of his legal ethics textbook for 15 minutes and had absorbed nothing. His concentration had been off. He rubbed his eyes and had decided to stop faking that he was studying. Maybe he was coming down with something. He was feeling a little anxious, a little achy and a lot headachy. Jess was sitting on his bed, studying herself, but she seemed better immersed in her Jane Austen book for her English class. She looked up at him, as if sensing Sam was looking at her and smiled.

"You okay?" She asked sweetly.

"Yeh, yeh, I'm just feeling like I'm coming down with something."

"You need some aspirin?"

"Don't have any," Sam said, feeling stupid for whining about what was probably just a cold.

"I've got some in my room. I'll get it."

"No, it's okay, you don't have to."

"Who's going to look after you if I don't, huh? You just ignore these things then act like a baby when you really do get sick. I can spare some aspirin to save myself that," Jess teased.

Sam laughed and couldn't argue with her. He made a bad patient. He knew it. Then a flash of memory rushed in from when he had been sick as a kid. Dean would have been the one taking care of him then. He would say something similar to tease him, but would also make sure that Sam got better under Dean's careful attention. Jess spotted the mood shift.

"Sam?"

Sam looked up, "Yeh?"

"Where'd you go there? For a minute I thought I'd lost you," Jess teased again.

"Nah, it's nothing. Just thinking about what you said. I do suck as a patient."

Jess just shook her head, kissed Sam's forehead affectionately then left to get the aspirin. He was startled from his straying concentration by his phone vibrating on a nearby table. He grabbed it and saw the ID. Dean. He felt his hand tremble a little. He hadn't heard from Dean since he had left. Dean had left one message shortly after he had started at Stanford. Like a coward, Sam had ignored it and Dean hadn't left another one since.

That had been a year and a half ago. He had kept the message though. He would listen to it when an unexpected rush of loneliness would have him yearning to hear Dean's voice. Dean had told him not to worry, that he'd take care of Dad and that if Sam needed anything, to not let pride get in the way of calling him. Sometimes hearing that message had rescued him from the aching isolation that he had felt during those first few months. He'd then met Jess and she had filled the void. Still, he hadn't erased the message.

Sam hesitated. What would Dean be calling about? Couldn't be anything good. Maybe it was about their dad. "Answer it, you dumbass and find out", Sam heard a voice in his head say, sounding awfully like Dean's.

He flipped the phone open and put it to his ear.

"Dean?"

"Hey, Sammy, it's me, Dad," said a deep husky voice.

The hairs at the back of Sam's head prickled when he heard his father's voice on the line, but there was something about the tone though that had made Sam temper his immediate reaction.

"Dad? What are you doing calling on Dean's phone?" Sam said.

"Because I was afraid you wouldn't answer if you saw that it was me."

Sam's defenses completely fell away at the honest answer his father gave him, but a cold feeling of dread then began to creep into his body.

"Dad? What's wrong? Why do you have Dean's phone? Where's Dean?" The flood of questions spilled out.

"Sammy, Dean's been hurt. Real bad. He's in the hospital."

Sam's body became jello. Blood just rushed away from his face and chest, pooling somewhere where he couldn't re-circulate it back to warm him. He shivered and then felt his knees buckle from under him. He sat back into his chair. His breathing quickened, his heart raced, but all he could feel was cold. "No, no," his mind kept repeating, but he couldn't utter a sound.

"Sam? Sam? You still there? I need you to come to the hospital. The doctors…they're not sure…" John's voice fell away like an echo and Sam heard the pain and strain in it.

"Okay, okay, I'll be there. Where is he? I'll find a way to get there as soon as I can –" Sam's voice was reaching a panicky squeak.

"Sam, I'm right outside. Just pack some stuff –"

"You drove to get me? You left Dean alone when he could –" Sam's voice switched to anger at his father's complete lack of responsibility for his oldest son.

"Sam, he's in a hospital here. Close by," John said. "I'll explain when you get in the car. Trust me."

Sam stiffened at the assurance. Their dad had always pulled the trust card on them when either of them dared to question an order, but Sam knew that he had to put aside his petty grievances toward his father and focus on Dean. Each minute away could mean that Dean could…no, no, Dean was not going to die.

Sam blindly shoved a bunch of stuff into a duffle, not even knowing what he was throwing into it or whether it was clean then he scribbled a note that he left on Jess's English book. His hand shook so hard, he could barely write the words:

_Jess,_

_My brother. He's in the hospital. I'll call as soon as I can._

_Love you,_

_  
Sam_

Sam bolted out of the dorm building and saw the familiar black Impala parked out front. He rushed toward it, climbed into the passenger seat, tossed the duffel to the back seat, but with a quick glance he had spotted the towels. They were soaked through with drying blood. Dean's blood.

John gunned the engine and took off.

"He's at Palo Alto Memorial. It's not far."

"Dad, what happened?" Sam asked, his voice shaky and scared.

"Dean read that there was something supernatural happening here and had insisted on coming here to make sure you were okay and to protect you. I told him that you could take care of yourself, but Dean, he wouldn't take no for an answer. He never could when it came to you," John said, a small smile crept on his face, but Sam could see the raw pain there.

John took in a breath.

"Anyway, I had a hunt to finish down south so I told him that if he wanted to check things out, I'd join him later. He agreed. He jacked a car and took off for here."

"Dad, you shouldn't have –"

"Let him go alone? I know that, Sam, but I couldn't leave the other hunt unfinished. There were lives there too. Dean knew that and understood. Besides he'd already done a lot of solo hunts and I just figured he'd touch base with you and the both of you would watch each other's backs."

Sam hung his head in shame.

"He didn't call."

"I figured that. That boy can be stubborn sometimes and before you say it, I know he probably gets that from me. The both of you do," John lightly joked. "He probably thought he could handle it on his own and he did, but the monster, it got its licks in too."

Sam watched his father's hands clench the steering wheel and then saw the guilt written all over his face.

"I found him, almost bleeding to death…"

_**Flashback**_

_John had just arrived into Palo Alto when he had gotten the call from Dean and what he heard could have stopped his heart right then._

"_D…dad?" Dean gasped, his breathing shallow. _

_Dean's hand shook with the pain as he tried to hold the phone steady. When the monster had tossed him, the phone had popped out of his hand and had landed a few feet away from him. The effort of crawling towards his phone then pressing the speed dial to call his father had exhausted him._

"_Dean? Dean? Where are you, son?"_

"_Hurts…Dad…got me good…but got him though…" Dean struggled out. "Hurts to…move…so _

_cold…D…dad…"_

_John's own blood then ran cold. Dean could be bleeding out._

_Dean shivered and every ripple brought fresh pain. _

"_Dean, listen to me, tell me where you are."_

"_Don't know…Dad…I…" Dean uttered, waiting for a wave of pain to pass through his muscle and bone._

"_Dean? Dean!"_

_But there was no response, just the sounds of quick and pain filled breathing. John put his GPS locator on and tried to zero in on Dean's position. A dot appeared after a few tense moments and John inwardly rejoiced at his son's preparedness by turning the GPS on his phone on._

"_Good job, son," John said more to himself. "I'm coming for you, Dean. Hang on, you hear me? Hang on."_

_All he got back was a moan. _

_John had never been so scared in all his life._

_Dean knew he had to stay awake to help his dad find him. Truth was he didn't want to die alone. The way he was feeling he wasn't sure he was going to make it, but he would do his best not to let his dad down. Winchesters don't quit._

_He tried to focus his thoughts away from the pain, but he also knew that the pain would keep him conscious, so he tried to keep it at a distance as best as he could. Then Sam came to mind. _

_He had missed him over the last year or more. After leaving that message for him right after Sam had left for Stanford then hearing nothing back, he had immersed himself in the hunts. They had kept his mind and body busy, but the long silence between them couldn't quell how much he wondered how Sam was doing. _

_When he could, he would visit, staying concealed so Sam wouldn't see him. He just needed to make sure that Sam was safe. It was a habit he would never learn to break. When he had read that a monster had been reported in Palo Alto, he couldn't ignore it or let it go. If it was nothing, fine, but if it wasn't, he had to make sure it wouldn't hurt anyone, especially Sam._

_John had probably broken a land speed record getting to Dean and he was hoping the entire time that he wouldn't get stopped by police. All the while, John kept talking to Dean, hoping to keep his son conscious._

"_Dean? Can you hear me?"_

"_D..dad?" Dean breathed out. _

"_You with me there? Talk to me, son."_

"_Tired…really hurting…"_

"_I know, but try hard to keep awake, Dean. It's important."_

"_Concussion…can't sleep…"_

"_That's right. We can't take any chances, can we?"_

_Dean moved his left hand over his side to check his wound and it came back covered in blood. Just as he figured, he was bleeding badly, maybe bleeding out. Shifting his body brought more waves of pain._

"_N…no, sir," Dean croaked out then groaned loudly._

"_What happened, Dean? What's wrong?"_

"_Tried to move…big mistake," Dean said breathing heavily._

_John couldn't help, but smile with pride over his son's resilience. His eldest was strong. He had been the anchor that had kept them together all these years until John had broken the one thing, the only thing that Dean had ever wanted, his family, together and whole. Now, John felt that this was his payback for ignoring the needs of a son who had never asked for anything for himself. He couldn't let him die. He wouldn't leave him behind. No man left behind, that was the credo John had lived by in the war. He had taught his sons the very same credo and Dean had embraced it with his heart and soul._

"_Don't move. Just keep talking to me, okay? Keep strong for me, son," John said, not realizing how close to breaking down he was. It was selfish to ask his son to hang on, to refuse him rest or relief from his pain just so that he could be reassured. He had asked so much of Dean, but if he were to let his guard down just once, he knew that he needed Dean. Not as a soldier, but as his son._

"_It's okay, Dad…I'll be here," Dean said to reassure his father. _

_Then with his usual sarcastic style, which was in itself reassuring to John, Dean said, "Like I've got…anywhere else…to go."_

_John could only smile as he raced to his son. Dean had been telling John that things would be okay since Dean was young enough to understand their life. It pained John more that Dean had to say those words to him when, as his father, he should have been the one comforting his son, both his sons._

_John had finally reached where Dean was. He had spotted the car Dean had jacked. John practically ejected himself from the Impala like a man possessed, leaving the door open, running, holding his phone tightly in his hands._

_John followed the path that Dean had taken, the crushed vegetation like a road map leading him to his son. _

"_I'm almost there, Dean. Don't let go. I'm coming for you."_

_No response. John ran faster, panic throbbing through his veins as much as blood was from not hearing anything from Dean. It was then he spotted Dean, sprawled on the ground, face down, phone loosely in his hand, the grip gone. Dean must have used all his waning strength just to get to his phone and dial John. More pride swelled within John, but concern and worry soon drove it out of him to deal with Dean's still, but not yet lifeless body._

_John bent down slowly, placed a gentle hand on Dean's back then spoke softly so as to not startle him._

"_Dean? It's Dad. I'm here, son. You still with me?"_

_Dean moaned and nodded his head._

"_Dean, I have to get you to a hospital, but I have to move you. It's gonna hurt something fierce, but I'll try to make it quick as I can, okay?"_

_Dean nodded again._

_John slowly turned his injured son over and sucked in a sharp breath at the pool of blood beneath Dean. The soil had absorbed some of it, but John knew Dean was on borrowed time. He had to hurry._

_Dean hissed, groaned deep, and bit his lip to keep from screaming._

"_It's okay, Dean. You let it out if you need to. It helps sometimes. You're safe with me. It's not a sign of weakness, son."_

"_No…you taught us…never give position away…can't let anything find us…I can…take it."_

_John almost let his emotions finally break when he had heard his son repeat back lessons he had taught him, but his son needed him, instead, he lifted his bleeding son into his arms as swiftly as he could and anchored them underneath him. He felt Dean's body stiffen. Dean's head curled into John's chest, desperately trying to muffle the moan of agony as pain electrified his body. Dean fisted John's shirt with his bloodied hand and breathed through the pain._

"_Okay, son, here we go. Stay with me now."_

_As John quickly walked Dean to the Impala, Dean's breathing started to become labored and ragged. He had to hurry. He couldn't let Dean down. He had done enough of that to both his sons. Once at the car, he opened the back seat door and slowly laid Dean in. Dean initially resisted._

"_No…blood will ruin the seats…" Dean said._

_John couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. How could his son care about such a thing when he was probably bleeding to death?_

"_Don't worry. I'll take care of it."_

_Then suddenly, Dean fisted John's jacket and the look in his eyes was a mix of pain and determination._

"_Don't..tell Sammy…"_

_John stared at his son incredulous._

"_Can't…know…can't worry him…he's got another life now…let him have it, Dad…"_

"_He's your brother, Dean. He needs to know. He'd want to know," John insisted._

"_No…if he does…won't go back…to school…can't keep him that way, Dad…not right…"_

_Thankfully for John, Dean had used up any reserves he had left and fell unconscious and he didn't have to make a promise he knew he couldn't keep. John quickly covered Dean with a blanket and drove to the hospital. He hated that he would betray his son yet again, but he knew deep in his heart that if anyone could keep Dean here, it would be Sam._

By the time John had reached the hospital, he had finished relating what had happened to Sam.

Sam was shaking with fear. He turned to his father and his eyes were red and tears streaked his face.

"I…should have been there…" Sam said as he wiped his face.

John watched the guilt cross Sam's face and couldn't let Sam go on thinking that.

"Sammy, I have to tell you. Dean didn't want me to call you. He didn't want to worry you."

"But why? He's my brother."

"I know that, but Dean…he didn't want you to feel guilty and stay. I don't want that either, son."

Sam looked at his father who seemed to have aged since he last saw him, but Sam saw regret and recrimination all over his face. His father hadn't even had the forethought to change his clothes. His shirt was covered in Dean's blood and it made Sam shiver. So much blood.

"Thanks, Dad, but how can I leave with Dean so hurt?"

"You don't have to, not now. Dean will be angry with me for telling you, but I can handle that. I knew that he'd need you," John hesitated. "I need you, son."

Sam was both surprised and moved by his father's admission, an admission that would never have been expressed if it hadn't been for the situation and though Sam would have wished that it had never had happened, he realized that it would have been the only way he and his father would have made peace. Leave it to Dean to put himself at risk, yet again, to bring his pigheaded family together.

Sam nodded and John understood.

They walked in together and to Dean's room in the ICU. Sam had to brace himself as he watched Dean let machines do all the work for him. Again, an image so unlike the Dean who would fight tooth and nail and resist any help.

"What do the doctors say?" Sam asked, hushed.

"That it's a miracle Dean's still alive, but you and I know how strong your brother is. He had a lot of internal injuries and nearly bled to death out there. It's another miracle he survived the surgery. His vitals are strong, but they're leaving him in an induced coma for now to give his body time to heal. They were being honest with me. Dean's chances aren't good and that's when I called you. There's a part of me that won't accept any other result than Dean coming out of this, but…"

"I know, Dad. We won't give up on him. He wouldn't if it were us."

John nodded in acknowledgement.

Sam slipped away while John sat vigil over Dean. He called Jess and told her about Dean, just not the truth about how Dean had really gotten hurt. He wanted to tell her everything, but once again, cowardice at losing her prevented him from being completely honest with her. A garden-variety car accident would have to do. She offered to come by and be supportive, but Sam told her that he'd be okay, that his dad was there and that she should study for her exams. He told her that he'd let her know if things change and that he loved her. Her soft calming voice soothed some of the anxiety he was feeling, but he knew that despite loving her deeply, the only voice that could truly ease his worries was Dean's.

After his call, he went back and pulled up a chair beside Dean's bed. Their dad had gone to get coffee even though Sam had told him to get some rest. The Winchester men were all pigheaded.

Sam looked at his brother's helplessness and hated seeing it. He also couldn't shake the guilt he felt at not having been there for him. He couldn't blame their father. Dean loved saving people. Sam had known that since he was a kid. He had wanted to help people too, but not by hunting evil.

"Dean, can you hear me? It's Sam," Sam said as he took Dean's hand. Yeh, Dean would yank it away if he knew, but Sam needed the brotherly contact. He hadn't seen or talked with Dean for over a year.

The ventilator was swooshing up and down as it pumped air into Dean's lungs because, for now, Dean needed the help. It was the most awful noise Sam could imagine. It signaled Dean's inability to breathe on his own.

Dean had never been this badly hurt. He'd been in hospitals at one time or another. They all had, but it had never been this bad for any of them. And Dean was here because he hadn't had any backup, because like always, Sam and their dad weren't there for him.

"Hey, you gotta come through this, man. You're scaring me. You're scaring Dad. I'm serious," Sam tried to joke, but it was a feeble attempt at best. "Dean, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I should have been there, covering your back like you always did for me."

John watched silently in the doorway of Dean's room and felt his own heart break at seeing both his sons in such pain.

"You got nothing to be sorry for, son," John said.

Sam turned around.

"Yeh, I do. I left him."

"To get a new life."

"Yeh, and look what it did?" Sam said as he looked over at Dean. "Dean's paying the price."

"Sam, this is the life. Dean knows that. He knows the risks. He'd tell you himself that he chose this life."

"Did he really?" Sam said, his voice filling with resentment. He knew it wasn't the time, but he couldn't control his frustration.

John bowed his head.

"Sam –"

Sam stood up to his full height to face his father.

"No, Dad, he shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be lying there fighting to live. He should be doing anything, ANYTHING, but what brought him here."

Sam's face then began to collapse.

"He shouldn't have been out there alone, Dad," Sam said plaintively. "I did this to him. I left him alone."

A combination of emotions and exhaustion hit Sam and he fell into his father's arms and John welcomed him.

"Sammy, you didn't do this."

John sat Sam down back in his chair and let Sam cry. He wanted to himself, but he didn't have the luxury. One son needed his comfort and the other, he didn't know what he could do for, except to be there, if he woke up. No, WHEN he woke up, John corrected in his thoughts.

After a while, Sam fell asleep and John just watched his sons sleeping. It was something he hadn't done much of when they were growing up.

**TBC. I was expecting to finish this then publish it, but it's taking longer to get to the ending because of real life and I have to make some decisions about how I want to end this so for now, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I hope not to keep you waiting too long. Thanks for reading and for reviewing!**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Payback for Freedom**

**Chapter 2**

A couple of weeks had gone by with Dean's vitals remaining stable so the doctors had decided to slowly wean him off the medication to lighten his coma in the hopes that Dean would wake up, but he had stayed unconscious. The ventilator had remained so the decision had been cold comfort for Sam. Dean still wasn't surviving on his own, he still needed help to live and it made Sam ache.

As Sam sat by Dean's bed while their dad slept fitfully in a chair on the other side, he swallowed a lump in his throat. Dean had been on his own all his life. He had been on his own when he had taken care of their dad and him, no one to rescue him, no one to take over his shift as brother, son, provider of emotional stability, and peacemaker yet he never uttered a word of complaint. He just gave whatever they had needed. In thinking back, Dean had tried to be all things to him and their dad, whatever their need and he had succeeded most of the time to comfort, to provide healing, protection, and for Sam, a much needed constant presence anchoring Sam to their nomadic life. It pained Sam to remember that all he and their dad had ever done was disappoint Dean. They took plenty from Dean, but barely gave anything back. Forget about gratitude. Dean had always been there and they had never questioned a time when he wouldn't be…until now.

Dean had been alone fighting whatever monster had been in Palo Alto, determined to kill it then leave without a word, not just to protect Sam, but because it was his job to save people, to keep them safe. Sam knew that it wouldn't have entered Dean's mind to call him, to ask him for help because, for Dean, it would have pulled Sam back into a life Sam had abandoned and Dean wouldn't ask him to re-enter it on the simple pretext of just killing yet another monster. Dean hadn't wanted their dad to even call Sam when he had gotten hurt. Even that wasn't a good enough reason to draw Sam back in Dean's eyes. Sam hated the thought that Dean had felt that he couldn't, no, shouldn't call Sam to help him. Who could blame him after Sam hadn't called him back when he had left that one and only message? Sam had kept it though. The thought of erasing it was unthinkable. What a hypocrite, Sam thought to himself.

Sam had gone back to Stanford briefly to take care of the details of his classes. He knew that he would never be able to study knowing Dean was so critical and not knowing if Dean would come out of it. Jess had been supportive and understood that Sam needed time with his family. She had told him that she would be there anytime he needed her and he had told her that he loved her. He felt guilty that suddenly, all he had wanted was to hear Dean's voice, to talk to his brother again. All he could do was stare at Dean's chest rising and falling, knowing it wasn't Dean doing it himself.

Suddenly, while lost in the hypnosis of watching Dean artificially breathe, Sam heard choking. He looked over at Dean and was shocked to see Dean's eyes open, looking afraid.

Sam ran out of the ICU and called out for help. John was jarred awake by Sam's sharp movements then looked over at Dean. He leaned over Dean and looked into his eldest's eyes.

"Dean?" John said in a hush.

"SOMEBODY? PLEASE HELP! It's my brother! He's choking."

A nurse came into Dean's room and shooed everyone out. She yelled to another nurse to call Dean's doctor. Sam and John could only look on helplessly as Dean struggled to fight every urge to pull the ventilator tube out himself as he choked and struggled to breathe on his own.

Minutes that felt more like hours later, a doctor finally came over and asked Dean if he could hear him. Dean nodded. Sam let out a sigh he'd been holding for what seemed like days. The doctor asked Dean if he was in pain. Dean nodded. More relief washed over Sam. Dean was understanding the questions being asked of him.

"Okay, Dean, we're going to take out the tube slowly, but you have to trust us and not struggle because you could hurt yourself. Do you understand?" The doctor asked.

Dean nodded then stilled his struggle even though Sam could see the discomfort in Dean's eyes. The nurses told John and Sam that they had to step out of the room in order for them to do their job. Sam resisted, but John put a weighty hand on his shoulder, telling him that it would be okay. They backed out of the room, Sam, unable to break his eye contact with Dean. He just felt himself being led out of the room by his father until the door closed in front of him.

"He's gonna be okay, right, Dad? He's breathing, he was understanding the doctor, that has to be good, right?" Sam babbled.

"It's a good sign, son," John reassured.

John patted his youngest's shoulder in comfort and found tears in his eyes. He had looked into Dean's eyes and had found fear there and it nearly cracked his heart in two to see Dean so afraid. Dean had never shown fear. John knew that Dean had felt it many times, but Dean had developed a finely tuned ability to hide his fear, his pain, and his uncertainty. But today, John had taken the time to look deep into his son's eyes and saw it raw and bared without any of Dean's characteristic barriers. It scared John to see Dean so vulnerable.

After a few more minutes that felt like a few more hours later, the doctor and nurses came out. Sam practically lunged at them.

"Is he all right?" Sam asked anxiously.

"Yes, yes, he's fine. We removed the ventilator tube. He was a little agitated so we've sedated him to give him some rest."

Sam knew that it hadn't been the removal of the intubation tube that had bothered Dean. It was not seeing his family in his line of sight. Dean needed to always know they were near and safe. It made Sam's distance from him for the last year and a half all the more cruel, knowing that about Dean.

"Is he really awake? I mean, out of the coma?" Sam asked realizing he wasn't making any sense.

"Yes, he's come out of the coma and his vitals seem strong. I think we can be cautiously optimistic. He has a **long** way to go, but it's a good start," the doctor comforted.

"Can we go back in?" John asked.

"Yes. He's going to be unconscious for awhile, but when he wakes up, he might be confused because of the sedation and his throat might be sore. All of that is normal so there's no need to be alarmed. He can have ice chips if he needs them."

"Okay, thanks, doctor," John said, seeing that all Sam wanted to do was to go back to Dean.

The doctor nodded and left. Sam rushed back into the room.

He stood over Dean and suddenly, the lack of sound, the swoosh of the ventilator now gone, gave Sam a shiver. Dean looked…dead lying there on the bed and for a split second Sam felt his legs tremble beneath him. He then felt his father's hand on his shoulder and it shook him back.

"He's going to be all right, Sammy. He just needs time to rest," John said.

"Yeh, Dad. Dean's going to be okay," Sam responded, uncertainty in his voice.

His mind couldn't help, but think about how they could still lose him. A part of him felt that he and their father hadn't deserved Dean back so easily, that neither of them had learned their lesson to appreciate Dean's presence in their lives.

Sam sat back down in his chair and his father went back to his.

"You know, I knew something was wrong. I didn't know what, but just before you called…I felt cold, sick…I just figured I was coming down with something, but now…"

John looked over at his son and didn't act surprised.

"You and Dean, you're connected. It wouldn't surprise me at all that you might have sensed something."

"Maybe, but it felt like more than that, like there was something inside of me…warning me…" Sam then shook his head. "Never mind. I must really be tired."

John stayed stoic, revealing nothing, but he knew that he couldn't dismiss Sam's words.

Once again, both Sam and John had fallen asleep in their chairs, Sam opting to lay his head on the bed. All they could now was wait. Dean's recovery would take time, but Sam was willing to wait and help him along the way. Sam's mind was filled with the memories of all the times Dean had nursed him, mended him, and stayed with him whether it was because he had chicken pox, the flu, or a gash from an angry spirit tossing him across a room. Dean had always been there. Sam knew that he had to be there for Dean this time. It wasn't lost on him how worried their dad was about Dean and more importantly, how genuinely glad he was to have Sam there.

Dean had played peacekeeper all their lives, able to see both sides and always found ways to keep them together or if he couldn't do that, be the constant that both he and their dad had needed. Sam had marveled then and still did at how Dean had done all that and had never regretted or missed any lost moments of his own. Everything had been about stabilizing him and their father. Deep in his heart though, Sam knew that Dean had just packed his needs away.

His arm had been folded near Dean's hand. He had been so tired that at first he hadn't noticed. It was more of a twitch than a touch so Sam had ignored it, but then there were the strokes of fingers brushing against his elbow and he drowsily turned and lifted his head, not knowing where the sensation was coming from at first. He looked over and saw Dean's eyelids flutter open. Sam turned around slowly, coming to full wakefulness and yet still a little groggy. He also didn't want to jar Dean or their dad if it had all been a dream or worse, a phantom feeling, like the kind people who had lost limbs felt and Sam knew that without Dean, he might as well have lost a limb.

Sam kept on looking at Dean, staring at him to be more exact, and waited, waited until full wakefulness or anything like it hit Dean. Sam would take anything at that point. It was almost silly and if Dean weren't so badly injured, awakening from having just been in a coma, Dean might have given him a puzzled look and said something snide like, _"What the? Care to explain why you are staring at me like that? Am I drooling or something?"_ Instead, Sam felt like he couldn't stop himself from staring, watching every move Dean made towards waking up because every sign of consciousness that Dean showed was evidence that Dean was going to be all right.

Finally, Dean turned his head and looked towards Sam. At first he wasn't sure where he was, he was aware of a far away pain that throbbed, but it wasn't excruciating. Confusion crinkled his face as he blinked to clear and focus his vision. Sam's face came into view, a soft, goofy smile on it.

"Sammy?" Dean croaked, his voice more of a rasp. "Why are you staring at me like that? Am I drooling or something?"

Sam could help, but let a relieved snicker sneak out and hearing Dean joke brought tears to his eyes.

"No, you jerk," Sam said quietly back.

"You okay?" Dean asked, his concern for Sam always first and foremost. He had to know that Sam was okay about being there, about being around their father.

"Yeh, yeh, I'm fine, Dean," Sam said, again marveling that Dean would have anything else on his mind when he was so injured. "Do remember anything?"

"I think I hit a brick wall and it was made of monster flesh…next thing I know I'm here. Am I close?" Dean asked, consciousness almost fully with him now.

"Pretty near," John said as he joined in. "How are you feeling, son?"

"About the way I look," Dean joked tiredly.

"Rest, son. We'll still be here when you wake up," John said, his own voice so full of emotion, it took every ounce of self-control to keep them suppressed.

"Dad? Can I talk with Sam for a minute?" Dean asked.

"Sure. I needed to get some coffee anyway," John said, understanding and knowing what Dean was going to say then wondered how he had been so lucky to have two fine sons.

After John left, Sam became concerned. Why did Dean want to talk to him alone?

"What is it, Dean?"

"I need to know that you're really okay, you know, about being here with Dad."

Sam looked at his ailing brother and found himself hating that he had left Dean behind along with their father, that he had lumped Dean with the rationale of leaving and staying gone. It had been their father's declaration and Sam had remembered now in the shining light of hindsight how Dean had kept silent, biting his lip in anguish at the destruction of everything he had known because Dean had felt he had to let go of his dream of family in order for Sam to have his chance at a normal life. Sam had been so angry at their father and he had taken Dean's silence as alliance so when he left, he had wiped them both out of the new life he was carving at Stanford. Even after Dean had reached out with his voicemail message, Sam's pride wouldn't let him give an inch, not even to Dean. And this was cosmic payback for that choice.

"Yeh, I am, Dean. Dad told me you didn't want him to call, but I'm glad he did. Why would you tell him that, you butthead?" Sam teased.

"Because I didn't want you to have to choose between me and Dad and your life at college," Dean said as he flinched in pain and tried to hide it.

"Dean? You okay? I'll get the nurse –"

Dean grabbed Sam's arm weakly to stop him and shook his head.

"I'm good, Sam. Don't go," Dean said and Sam watched Dean allow his walls to drop a little.

"Okay," Sam said. "And as for Dad and me, we're good. For now anyway."

Sam smiled, letting Dean know he was teasing.

"Sam, promise me something," Dean asked.

Sam stiffened a bit at the serious look on Dean's face and liked even less the tone in his voice.

"What?"

"That when I'm better, you go back to school. Don't let Dad or me keep you here," Dean explained as he closed in eyes in pain.

Sam noticed Dean's growing discomfort as Dean fisted the sheets with his other hand and his body began to tremble.

"You're hurting, man. I'm getting the nurse –"

"Promise…first," Dean groaned out.

"Dean –"

"Pro…mise…" Dean blurted out before letting Sam go and turning away moaning, arching his head and neck into this pillow.

Sam rushed out of Dean's room and called out that his brother was in severe pain. A nurse then ran in. John had come back with his coffee just when everyone was entering Dean's room. He saw Sam staring helplessly at everyone working on Dean. As John slowly approached, he heard Sam reciting over and over again in a whisper, "no, no, no".

"Sam, what is it? What happened?"

"I…I don't know…we were talking then Dean was in a lot of pain…I called in a nurse to help…"

John could discern the rest.

"Dad, something's wrong."

"I'm sure the doctors will help Dean," John said, trying to stay calm himself.

All John and Sam could do was stand back and let the doctors and nurses work on Dean. Sam felt his panic rising the longer he couldn't see Dean. John did his best to contain his need to pull apart the veil of medical personnel that surrounded his son too. His instincts were warring with the understanding that neither he nor Sam could do anything to help Dean. Only the doctors and nurses could do that. After the minutes ticked by, the doctor finally emerged from Dean's room, his face grim and uncertain. Sam went frigid with fright. It wasn't good. He felt it. A pain deep in his gut clawed at him and he just knew that the doctor wasn't going to tell them good news.

"Doctor, what is it? What's wrong with Dean," Sam piped up unable to stand not knowing.

The doctor looked into Sam's eyes and Sam thought he saw death there.

"I don't know," the doctor finally said.

Sam was struck speechless. For all of his college education, those three words left him completely addled. How do you ask a question that you knew no one had an answer to?

"What do you mean you don't know?" John asked, his frustration elevating with each moment.

"Here's what we do know. Dean is in severe pain and he has a fever. We've given him intravenous pain medication, but it's not alleviating his discomfort. His fever is spiking dangerously high and he's developed a rash that wasn't there before."

"A rash? Where?" John questioned.

"On his left shoulder. We didn't detect it before and it seems to be getting worse at an accelerated rate."

John took in a breath after taking in all of the doctor's information to them and a voice told him that Dean was suffering something supernatural. He couldn't express it to Sam until they were all alone.

"What can we do?" Sam asked finally finding his voice again.

"For now, I want to wait and see what develops and then try other medications to gain control of the fever."

"Can we see him?"

"Yes, but not for long. He needs to get as much rest as possible."

Sam just nodded and went into Dean's room, John following behind.

Dean's moans were heartbreaking to John. He was berating himself for letting Dean go alone on the hunt, but he also knew that nothing could have stopped him. He should have known that Dean wouldn't have called Sam. He had hoped that Dean's need to see Sam would override his protectiveness, but as always, Dean had put Sam's safety first.

Once in the room, John closed the door behind him.

"W..what…what is it, Dad?" Dean struggled through his pain, his senses still detecting something was wrong.

"Boys, I think Dean's suffering from something that the monster gave him. Maybe venom. I don't know yet. Dean? Do you remember it attacking you?"

"Y..you mean other than…" Dean struggled as he swallowed the pain down, "being…thrown like a rag doll?"

John couldn't help, but smile. Dean was doing his best to play down his pain so that he and Sam wouldn't worry, but he wasn't succeeding.

"Yes, son. Did it bite you? Scratch you?"

Dean clenched his eyes closed and John couldn't tell if Dean was trying to remember or fighting off more pain.

"It grabbed…me."

"Where?"

"By the sh..shoulders."

"That's it."

"What's it, Dad?" Sam asked.

"I think your brother was infected by that monster he was hunting. I'm going to call Bobby and talk to him just to make sure."

"And if it did infect Dean?" Sam asked.

"Then we have to get him out of here. Nothing the doctors can do will help him."

"But Dad, we can't, Dean's really hurt bad, if we move him, he could die. No, I say we wait until he stabilizes –"

"Trust me, son, he'll be dead before anything the doctors can give him can help him –"

"Trust you. It's always about trusting you, isn't it? Because you always know best, right?" Sam said defensively.

"Sammy, s…stop…" Dean pleaded through his pain.

"When it comes to this, yes," John asserted firmly.

"What about Dean? Don't you think you should be thinking about him?"

"I **am** thinking about him, Sam. If what he has is supernatural then he's on borrowed time. These things, they work quickly so we can't wait and see if what the doctors are doing will work."

Dean watched his family fraying at the seams, slowly inching towards breaking apart and the pain he felt was more than just physical. He had to stop them from derailing so with everything he had, he called out to them.

"Hey! Guys? In the room, you know?" Dean joked as best as he could, but moving caused ripples of pain to rack his body and he groaned.

John and Sam immediately stopped arguing when they heard Dean and turned towards him. Dean's face was white, almost ashen, his skin was clammy from sweat from the fever and he was breathless from the effort it took to get their attention.

"Dean, I'm sorry –" Sam said, realizing too late and hating that he hadn't controlled his emotions like he had promised himself he would.

"Look, th…this is about me…so I get final say…it's my decision…okay?" Dean grunted out.

John and Sam silently listened if not fully accepting guilt written across their faces.

Dean nodded tiredly and slowly relaxed back down onto the bed.

"Dad, talk to Bobby if this could be…supernatural…if he thinks it is…then we go…"

"Dean!" Sam protested.

"This isn't…about taking sides…Sammy…if this is supernatural, you know…there's nothing the doctors can do…"

Sam reluctantly nodded.

"If I'm gonna die…I'd rather it not be in a hospital with no chance…"

"Dean…" Sam said, trying to protest again, but saw that Dean had made up his mind.

"Okay, son," John said, no tone of vindication in his voice for winning the argument. Time was running out for Dean and both he and Sam had to set aside their differences for his sake.

Sam looked over at his father and saw only pain. He felt guilty for what he had said, for challenging his father. It seemed he was always trying to prove himself and he didn't know why.

"Y..you okay with this, Sammy?" Dean asked.

"I'm okay, Dean," Sam said though he knew he was far from okay. He wouldn't be okay until Dean was.

**TBC. Thanks for reading as always. Hope you enjoyed it. Your reviews have been wonderful and much appreciated. I have a plan for Chapter 3, which will be the last one so I hope to not leave you hanging for long. I just have to write it.**


	3. Chapter 3

**The Payback for Freedom**

**Chapter 3**

As John left to talk to Bobby about what he suspected about Dean, Sam stayed with Dean, but he was agitated and paced around Dean's bed.

Dean was having trouble truly resting because of the pain. It was getting harder to control and another rash had appeared on Dean's other shoulder, confirming where the monster had grabbed him. Then the doctors had noticed pinpricks at the center of each of the rashes. The wounds had begun to ooze a greenish puss that when tested, resembled no other pus that the doctors had ever seen before. They applied ointment to keep infection from entering the wounds and continued to test antibiotics, but nothing had worked.

Sam was becoming scared, terrified that maybe their dad was right, that this was more than just Dean getting tossed from a mano-a-mano with a monster. The doctors were trying, but Sam knew they were stumped and were only trying to make Dean as comfortable as possible and even that was failing. The medications they had tried were only barely keeping Dean comfortable and Sam knew the rest was Dean exerting all of the strength he had to suppress what the meds couldn't. Dean was doing what he had always done, protecting his family from worrying as much as he could. Sam saw the resignation on the medical staff's faces and now, all he had wanted was to get Dean out of the hospital as soon as they could and to where they could help him, save him.

"Sam, sit down, you're making me tired just watching you," Dean said, through moans.

"I can't. I have to find out what Bobby said to Dad."

"I already know. So do you," Dean said.

Sam turned to look at Dean.

"Yeh, I guess I do," Sam admitted solemnly.

"Don't worry. Dad and Bobby will figure it out. I'll be okay," Dean said as his face clenched in pain.

"I know," Sam said, his voice not as certain as Dean's.

Dean knew he had to take Sam's mind off him.

"So, how's this college life working for you, huh? Knowing you, you're living in libraries," Dean teased.

Sam looked over then sat down. Dean's ploy was transparent, but Sam felt that he owed Dean something for being silent for so long.

"No, I'm not…well, not all the time anyway," Sam defended feebly.

"Yeh, right. Have you at least found a girl?"

Sam smiled at the thought of Jess.

"Yeh, yeh, I have."

"I hope she's more fun than you are."

"She's the best," Sam said wistfully. "Her name's Jess."

"Nice. All right, my little bro has a girlfriend. I'm impressed."

Dean arched a little and Sam started to get out of his chair, but Dean waved him off.

"I'm okay…" Dean groaned.

"No, you're not, Dean. You don't have to protect me anymore."

Dean breathed raggedly through his pain and knew Sam was right.

"You're…right…I don't," Dean said. "But no matter what…happens, you have to promise…to go back to school…be with your Jess…"

Sam rolled his eyes. He had hoped Dean had forgotten.

"Dean…"

"Promise, Sammy," Dean insisted, using the affectionate name that Sam only let Dean use.

Sam knew that Dean wasn't asking for much and had never asked for anything from both him and their dad other than to stay together as a family. They had both killed that dream of Dean's without a second thought to the damage it would leave on Dean.

He owed Dean so much more than just a promise to stay in school, to live the dream of normal. He had been living it at the cost of his relationship with his brother, the brother who had given up everything he had dreamed of so that Sam could live **his** dream. Dean wasn't thinking it, but Sam was. If he didn't go back, then everything Dean had gone through to make it happen for Sam would have been a waste. Once again, payback kept nagging at Sam. He knew he would have to pay for what he had asked Dean to give up for him. He just hoped that it wasn't Dean's life.

"Okay, Dean," Sam said reluctantly.

Dean could only nod, too tired and in too much pain to answer back. He just kept breathing through every spasm that hit him.

"Dean?" Sam started. "I'm sorry I didn't call…"

Dean looked over at him and saw the guilt on Sam's face.

"No big deal –" Dean deflected.

"Yeh, it is. Because of that, you didn't call me to help you and now you're –"

"No, Sam. That's not why…thought I could handle it…that's all…nothing to do with you…what happened was my fault…not yours."

Sam didn't say anything back. He knew that Dean would never blame him. It was more important that he blamed himself.

"Sam? You hear me?" Dean said.

"Yeh, Dean. I hear you," Sam said, unconvinced.

Dean was worried about Sam's tone, but didn't have the strength to argue his point. It would just have to wait until all this was over.

John entered the room, clearly in hunter mode with a plan in mind.

"Okay, I talked with Bobby. He thinks he knows what it is, but it will require some special magicks to get the venom out of Dean's system. He knows an expert on supernatural remedies further north of here in Eureka. Bobby will let him know that we're coming. He's also gonna call in to Dean's doctors as a specialist and help us get Dean released. Can't sneak him out hurting like he is."

Sam's face brightened at Bobby's plan and his father's compassion.

Bobby had been very convincing and was able to secure Dean's release. The doctors were reluctant to do it at first given Dean's injuries, but had to admit that they had done all they could and Dean seemed only to be getting worse. If there was someone who had some kind of expertise they didn't possess, they agreed that Dean's long-term health had to be considered. John had jacked a van to transport Dean, as he had to remain laying down to prevent any more internal injuries. The doctors were dubious, but the forms had been signed.

Sam stayed in back with Dean, watching him, making sure that if anything changed, they'd know right away. It was at least a three-hour drive to Eureka and Sam worried Dean would turn for the worse before they got there. He tried not to think about that, but knew that he had to be with Dean every step of the way. It was no less what Dean would do, had done for him.

Dean was trying to breathe through his pain, groaning with every exhale. Sam would check his dressings and they would be soaked through and every time he changed them, he saw the red and inflamed rashes, seemingly bubbling with pustules. It brought up bile into his throat, but he swallowed it down. Dean had seen him at his worst, throwing up from drinking too much, delirious with fever from flu, changed his own pus drenched infected wounds and he had never lost his composure, had never relinquished his resolve until he had seen Sam through it. Dean had never been without a sarcastic joke or a freely given comforting word whenever Sam had needed it. Sam refused to give in to a weakness that Dean had never afforded himself.

"You know, it's okay to hurl…"

"What?"

"You're as green as my pus, kid. Give it up if you need to…" Dean said, giving Sam permission.

"No. No, I'm okay."

"Liar."

"You never did," Sam said softly. "All those times you took care of me…"

"No, I did. I was just better at hiding it," Dean teased.

"Jerk," Sam teased back, knowing that Dean was just trying to make him feel better.

"I'm going to be all right, Sam. No monster is going to bring a Winchester down. Especially not this Winchester."

"I know, it's just…" Sam said tiredly as he rubbed his eyes.

Dean had seen the barely concealed exhaustion on Sam's face.

"Sam, get some sleep. You're running on empty," he encouraged.

"No, I'm okay."

"You're afraid, I get that, but you don't have to be."

"How can you say that? We don't know…" Sam said, finally revealing his fear to Dean.

"Sammy, I'm not going anywhere. I promise. Get some sleep. One of us should," Dean gently insisted.

"I can't, Dean. What if you don't…you can't promise…you don't know…" Sam said, unable to hold back his fear over losing Dean, of falling asleep and waking up to find Dean gone.

Dean saw Sam's struggling with obvious guilt and felt responsible. Dean thought to himself, _"This is why I didn't want Dad to call you. I didn't want to put you through this."_

Dean wasn't sure if he was going to make it. If he were to gauge it on how he was feeling, it didn't look good for him, but he could never, would never say that to Sam. He had never felt the kind of the pain he was feeling now. It burned and he felt like someone with a sword was thrashing his insides into shreds. He was trying to hold back how really bad off he felt, but it was getting harder and harder.

He saw how hard Sam was trying to be strong, but Dean knew that, in the end, Sam was still a kid, barely 20 and on his own for the first time. Even though he knew Sam could hold his own against monsters, demons and spirits, nothing he or their dad had taught him could have prepared him for normal life, normal people, normal challenges, the hardest of which being on his own without his family. Sam may have fought against it, but the hunting life was all he had ever known and though Sam thought he was all grown up, he wasn't. Dean could see that Sam wasn't ready to be the strong one and that was okay. He shouldn't have to be at his age. Truth be told, Dean kind of liked the job, but when Sam left, that purpose was suddenly gone and Dean felt empty without it. He had gotten used to it, channeling it towards their dad, but he had missed being depended on, being Sam's protector. Seeing Sam so scared now, taking up that mantle again felt easy and comfortable.

"It's okay, Sam. Keep talking to me. It'll help me take my mind off things. Tell me about Jess. Is she hot?" Dean asked, knowing he was helping Sam as much as himself by having Sam talk. Sam loved to talk.

John heard everything behind him as he drove the van and he couldn't help thinking that maybe Dean had been right, that he shouldn't have called Sam. Sam was still young. He may have seen a lot of bad in his young life, but he was still a kid. Leave it to Dean to sense Sam's needs and seeing to them regardless of what he was going through.

John had to admit that he was worried, even scared. Dean was suffering and getting worse. Bobby had told him that there was no guarantee the ritual they were going to perform would work. He didn't tell his sons that, especially Sam, but the threat was there, kept in his neat little need-to-know rationale. John was sure Dean knew. He couldn't be going through all that pain and not know and like John Dean was keeping his suspicions to himself, thinking he was protecting the both of them.

Dean was everything that John had trained him to be with one very important exception. Dean was a much better man. John knew that he hadn't learned that from him or from any training he had given him. That was innate to Dean. Sam was a good man too, but sadly, learned his rebellion from John's tyrannical example. John had realized too late that Sam needed more than he had in him to give. Dean had filled that hole and he had taught Sam lessons along the way. Lessons that made Sam the man he was. John didn't think either of them could lose Dean and survive it, not without a rift forming. They were too much alike, he and Sam. Too stubborn and pigheaded to admit when they were wrong. They would never meet in the middle and John had to come to terms with the fact that he was too much commander and not enough of a father to them both. Dean had understood even though John wasn't kidding himself, he knew Dean harbored some resentment for carrying so much. How could he not? How could John blame him? Yet John had come to depend on Dean so much, he didn't think he could do without him. Sam never would understand. He was too defiant, too rebellious. For Sam, the resentment was well planted already, rooted so firmly that Sam would never yield.

John held on to whatever hope his cynical heart still had within it. He couldn't, wouldn't allow himself any other option until there was none left to consider. Dean had to live, not because he and Sam needed him, but because he was a good son and brother…a good man.

After another 2 hours, they had finally arrived at the ramshackle shack that Bobby had directed them to. John got out of the car and told Sam to stay with Dean. He gave him a gun just in case. Though Bobby's judgment of the man who could save Dean's life was unassailable on its own, they couldn't be too careful.

John approached the house and knocked on the door. It opened to reveal a man who was the epitome of a mountain man, long grey hair and beard, worn clothes, holding his own weapon.

"You John Winchester?" He asked with a grizzled tone.

"Yes and my sons. Did Bobby Singer call you?"

"Yeh, he told me you were coming," the man said, lowering his rifle. "Can't be too careful these days."

"I understand."

"Paul. Paul Redmond."

John took Paul's proffered hand and shook it authoritatively. Paul noticed John's pained expression and knew his son must be bad off.

"Let's get your boy inside and see what we can do."

"Thank you."

John and Paul walked over to the back of the van. When they opened the door, they saw Sam laughing and Dean struggling to laugh through his pain.

"Well, sounds like a party in here," Paul teased. "Paul Redmond."

Sam's expression turned serious again as he remembered what they were there for.

"Sam Winchester. This is my brother, Dean," Sam introduced, then pleaded. "Please help him."

"We'll do our best," Paul said. "Nice to meet you, Dean."

"I'd get up, but…" Dean joked.

"No need, Dean. Let's get you into the house so I can 'suss out what's going on here. Now, I'm not gonna lie to you, you're going to hurt something fierce when we move you -"

"It's okay. Just do it," Dean said.

As all three of the men pulled Dean's stretcher out of the van, every unintentional jolt or bump brought fresh waves of pain throughout every nerve in Dean's body and he grabbed on to the rails, white-knuckled. This time, he couldn't hold back. He grunted loudly and gasped from the pain. Sam's body reacted empathically to Dean's cries. He wished he could do something.

They got him inside and placed him into a room Paul had readied.

"Sorry, son, but one more move to the bed. Brace yourself."

Dean just nodded. With the help of the sheets on the stretcher, they lifted Dean off it, using them like a sling to place him as gently as possible onto the bed. Finally, the pain was too much for Dean and he lost consciousness. Sam panicked at Dean's stillness.

"What happened? Dean? Dean!"

Paul checked Dean's vitals and though they were weak, they were there.

"Relax, son. Dean's okay. The pain finally drove him under. Blessing in the end. We'll keep checking him, but I'd keep hoping he'll stay under for now. He'll need the rest."

Sam nodded. He felt the exhaustion hit him and stumbled.

"Looks like you could use some shut eye too."

"No. No, I'm fine. I can't leave, Dean."

"Who says you have to? There's a bed right there. Just rest a spell. You'll do no good to your brother the way you are. He's going to need you and your strength."

Sam nodded, slowly reclined on the bed as all the adrenaline left him and fell instantly asleep.

"I gotta learn your secret," John teased.

"I can see your boys are connected. Bonded. They rely on each other. I can already feel the protectiveness Dean feels towards Sam. It's strong. He's strong. I have hope that if anyone can make it, he can."

John let his own tension release from Paul's words as they walked out of the room, closing the door.

"I won't lie to you, John. Dean is going to go through some serious pain. Reaching in and getting that venom out will require a good bit of magicks and that much more strength on Dean's part to resist temptation. He'll question his will to live. Everyone who gets bitten by this monster does. If his will is strong, he'll make it. If it surrenders, we'll lose him. It's as simple as that."

"Dean, he's the strongest man I know. I can't believe he'd give in."

"Not to underestimate him, you know your son best, but I have to tell you, when faced with the pain he'll suffer, death becomes attractive, a release from all the suffering."

John nodded.

"I will tell you that I felt something deep within your son. He's a man who has a greater purpose ahead of him. I can't tell you what that is, but if he survives this, he will do great things. There will be struggles, but he will overcome them."

John was taken aback by Paul's observations. They were so detailed. John smiled though, thinking that his first-born would be destined for good things. It was not hard to imagine.

"Are you a psychic?"

"No, no, just empathic. It's always been my gift…" Paul said. "Or my curse, depending on the day. Runs in the family. My mother had the same gift. I get feelings about people."

Paul then became serious.

"You have to know. Your youngest son, Sam? He's also strong, but he has within him, a darkness. It's shrouded by the love he feels for Dean, but it's there and it's getting stronger. That love for his brother and the love he feels coming from his brother, it grounds him, for now, but if anything should happen to Dean, Sam will have nothing to keep him from falling into a darkness he can never emerge from. Sam is an explosive waiting for the right spark. I tell you this because if Dean doesn't survive, you need to know."

John nodded again.

"I understand," John said.

"You've done your best with your sons given what cards you were dealt. A parent can only do so much. The rest is up to your sons."

Paul patted John on the shoulder and walked away to prepare for the ritual.

John sat down in a nearby chair, allowing his own exhaustion to settle into him. He'd suspected something in Sam for a long time. As a father, he refused to acknowledge it, but with Paul's words, they just confirmed what he had felt, what he had suspected. Something had happened to Sam that night when Mary had been killed. It had been saving him that had torn Mary apart and had gripped her to the ceiling of Sam's nursery. She had tried to stop something and had failed.

Though Mary had never broached the subject of the night her father had been killed other than her explanation then that someone had killed him, knocking them both out, John had suspected that what had happened then and what had happened to Mary that night were connected. After years of research and torturing demons to reveal what they knew, he had pieced together some of what had befallen his family. Mary had made a deal with a yellow-eyed demon to have her life with him and their sons, but when the deal had come due, it had been Sam that the demon had wanted. Mary just had gotten in its way.

John had kept that secret from his sons. They didn't know that the vendetta or crusade as Sam liked to call it was more than what they had seen in his behavior, more than what he had told them. John had been on a crusade, but it was for more than just to avenge Mary's death, but to find a way to save Sam. Paul's chilling warning reached into John's bones and he shivered. What if Sam couldn't be saved? What if Dean was the only one who could save him?

John hated that Dean would carry yet another burden, an unknowing burden, but one that Dean had already shouldered in a way. He had practically raised Sam, had given him knowledge and compassion. Dean would die for Sam in a heartbeat, but what John feared was that by dying to save Sam, Dean would be leaving behind an uncertain and looming shadow that could exact its own terrifying vengeance upon the world.

**TBC. This story has truly gripped me in a good way and I have a hopefully amazing ending planned. Thanks for sticking with me. Your reviews have been wonderful and are appreciated as always.**


	4. Chapter 4

**The Payback for Freedom**

**Chapter 4**

John went into the room where Dean and Sam were resting only to find that Sam was the only one asleep. He heard Dean's ragged breathing and moans. He knew Dean was exerting every ounce of self-control to stay as quiet as he could so that Sam could sleep. John had hoped that Dean would have also stayed asleep, but knew Dean's respite would be temporary. He walked over and bent close to Dean's ear so he wouldn't wake up Sam.

"How you feeling, son?"

"Shhh…don't wake Sammy. He needs…the rest," Dean said and John felt his heart clench. Sam was never far from Dean's thoughts or concerns.

"Paul's ready to start the ritual. I think the sooner we get this done, the better…" John said, as he paused to tell his son the harsh and honest truth. "Dean, I want you to hear it from me, but the ritual –"

"Might not work," Dean finished. "Yeh, I figured. It's okay, Dad. I get the risks, but I'll make it work if I have to."

John watched Dean's face and was amazed at seeing how determined he was at not shirking his responsibility to him and Sam. His son's courage was admirable. It made John feel ashamed at himself for relying on his son to keep his promise and yet so proud to have a son who loved so much.

"I know you will, but I want you to know, you won't be alone in this."

"I know that, Dad."

The certainty in Dean's voice, the faith there that John knew he didn't deserve, it gave him resolve to make sure that he didn't let his son down.

"I…" John started, wanting to say that he loved his son, but he was incapable of saying the words, fearing saying them would somehow doom Dean because he had never had the courage to say them before. Saying them now, with Dean so hurt, might be invoking some kind of payback for not acknowledging his feelings all those times when his sons were growing up.

"You don't have to say it, Dad…I know…" Dean finished again for John.

"Okay, then let's get started," John said as he tapped Sam on the shoulder to wake him. "Sammy?"

Sam stirred slowly.

"You might have to use C4, Dad…Sam was never an easy rise," Dean said as a wave of pain hit him and he groaned.

John turned with concern, but Dean just shook his head, telling him in his own way to concentrate on Sam.

Sam finally stirred.

"Hmmm?" Sam then startled awake. "What? What is it? Something happen to Dean?"

"No, no, Sam –"

"I'm right here, you spaz. No worries. Show time is all," Dean said, immediately calming Sam down.

John marveled at how easily Dean affected Sam. It warmed his heart, but chilled his soul if Dean were to ever be lost to Sam.

"Sam, help me with your brother. Paul needs him at the altar," John asked.

Sam nodded sleep leaving him quickly.

"Dean, hang on," John said.

"Okay," Dean replied.

Sam and John lifted Dean by the sheets again and then laid him slowly on the prepared altar. Dean groaned all the way, losing his ability to resist the pain anymore. He was running on empty. As much as he wanted to spare his family from worrying, the venom was invading his body, taking over every nerve and pore. He didn't think he had any control over it any more.

Paul Redmond came over and squeezed Dean's arm.

"Are we ready?" Paul asked, more as a formality.

"As ready as I'm ever going to get," Dean claimed, still trying to put on a brave face, only to have it clench with pain and Dean crying out.

"Okay, Dean, now, a few things you have to know. This isn't going to be easy and I wish I could tell you that I can knock you out for this, but the later stages of the venom are sadistic. Nothing can stop it now. You probably already noticed that you're having trouble fighting off the pain. It's only going to get worse from now on. It's got a firm hold of you now. It's tendrils are deep into your nerves, blood, bones, muscle, you name it. They are going to grasp tighter to keep from being pulled out of you. It will be a tug-o-war between you and it. Haven't lied to you thus far, not going to start now because you need to know. The pain, it's nothing you've ever felt before. You'll feel like you're being ripped to shreds on the inside. Now, you have to understand, it's pain that will make you question your sanity and your will. Many have given up to rid themselves of the pain and as strong as you are, you might consider it yourself."

"You can stop right there. I appreciate what you're saying, but I plan on coming out the other side of this." Dean said as he licked his dry lips and breathed raggedly. "**You** did, right?"

Dean surprised Paul with his sharp intuition. Dean knew that no one could tell him what he would be facing without having faced it themselves.

"Yeh, yeh, I did," Paul said in hushed surprise.

"Well, then guess I have something to prove, don't I?" Dean smiled through his pain. "Tell me one thing though…who saw you through to the other side?"

Paul's eyes began to fill. Dean's understanding and keen observations kept on surprising him. He was astonished at how Dean had come to conclude that he had survived it himself and it only raised his estimation of the young man even more.

"My son. He was there the entire time. I knew I had to live for him," Paul admitted.

Dean didn't act surprised.

"Well, I've got my family to live for so I'd say my odds are pretty good, don't you?" Dean joked lightly.

"I'd say so," Paul said smiling back. "Okay, then let's get to it."

John watched the exchange in awe. With everything Dean was going through, his instincts, they were just as sharp and it pleased him to see him stump an experienced man like Paul and yet to also move him to tears. Dean had always possessed that talent. His compassion for others came naturally. Sometimes, he felt so much he couldn't always find the right words to provide comfort. Dean may have always had trouble expressing his own feelings, but for others, he had empathy to spare and for Sam, there was no limit to his sacrifices.

Dean nodded his approval to go ahead then flashed a glance towards his father and brother. The two people he would live and die for.

"I'll make it," he told them.

And Dean had meant it.

Paul gave John's shoulder a pat as he walked by.

"Okay, John and Sam, stand on either side of Dean. He may need to remind himself that you're there. It will help anchor him to this world."

Sam couldn't help, but find himself trembling. He was as scared as he had ever been in his life. Dean's life was depending on him and he wasn't sure he was strong enough. He talked a good talk, but in the end, he'd never had to be there this way for Dean. What if he failed him? Dean spotted Sam's uncertainty and reached out to grab Sam's arm, as painful as the move was for him.

"Sammy, I'll find my way back. I promise."

Sam could only nod.

"Okay, here's what's going to happen. I'm going place these stones onto each wound on Dean's shoulders," Paul said as he placed black stones on Dean's wounds.

Dean winced from the contact and from the weight of the stones. Every nerve ending was enflamed so every touch was exquisite pain.

"I'll recite some incantations and the stones will begin to glow, even change colors as they begin to absorb the venom into them. The very last color we'll see that will tell us that the venom had been extracted will be blood red. It will be Dean's blood. Not enough to cause damage, but enough to remove any toxins in his blood."

"What if we don't see that?" Sam asked.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"You are **such** a buzzkill," Dean teased, trying to keep Sam from thinking the worst, but he should have known that Mr. Must-Have-All-Knowledge boy would never settle for simple acceptance or simple faith in an expert.

"We have to know, Dean…" Sam said. "**I** have to know."

"No, you're right, you both should know what to expect. If Dean's blood doesn't go into the stones, he'll bleed out internally instead. There won't be any saving him if that happens. He'll be dead before we can get him off the table."

Sam nodded and bit his lip. John remained stoic, but he felt his body run ice cold at the thought of his son bleeding to death.

"Okay, on that happy note, can we get started, please?" Dean tried to deflect. He turned to Sam. "Not going to happen, okay, Sam?"

Sam was like a deer staring into headlights, frozen with fear, both of losing Dean and of failing to save him.

Dean saw Sam, petrified with the idea of being responsible for his death and decided he had to snap him out of it. He needed Sam's focused commitment to saving him, not his uncertainty about "what if I fail?"

"I **need** you 100% with me on this, man. **I** know you can get me through this, but I need **you** to know it too."

Sam looked down at Dean's face, wrenched with pain and a resolve fell over him. He nodded and Dean knew he had him on board.

"Go head," Dean said to Paul.

Paul nodded back and began to recite words that neither John nor Sam had ever heard before. Paul placed his hands on the stones and closed his eyes. He trembled with pain and Dean arched with his own pain. No longer able to keep back the rushing tide of pain filling his body, Dean groaned in agony, low grunting and ragged breathing and as close to whimpering as Sam and John had ever heard Dean utter in all the times that he had been injured. Paul then removed his hands.

The stones glowed a fiery orange, pulsing and emulating flames though the smooth surfaces.

"G…god…" Dean uttered gutturallywhile he gulped in air.

Sam and John watched helplessly as Dean struggled to overcome or at least found some way within him to block out the pain, but to no avail. It was beyond awful to see Dean battle and fight against an unseen assault inside of his body and having no weapons to help him defeat it.

Dean then suddenly screamed, his hands grabbing onto both Sam and John's arms. The scream was long and excruciating, loud enough to seemingly break glass, but instead it just pierced invisible shards of pain into both Sam's and John's hearts.

The stones then turned blue, bright cobalt in their intensity, bringing waves of shivers through Dean, icy pain that instead of bringing relief to the fire, only added to it with its own bitingly cold bitterness. Dean's screams stopped, but they were replaced with teeth chattering moans.

Sam was on the edge of being distraught at seeing Dean so out of control, only a mantra he had kept repeating in his head prevented him from running away, escaping the sounds of Dean's suffering, _"Dean needs me. Dean needs me"._

Paul then stopped chanting and placed his hands back on the stones. He closed his eyes as if communicating with them. Dean's breathing became rapid, almost hyperventilating and once again, he whimpered with a cry that sounded so much like a little boy's only with the deep resonance of a grown young man fighting for his life.

"Dean? Can you hear me?" Paul asked.

"Mmm…y…yes," Dean said through labored breaths.

"Okay, now comes the hard part," Paul half-teased, knowing Dean would understand.

"Y…you mean that w…wasn't it? S..shocker…" Dean said as smiled back at Paul.

"Sorry to tell you, but it's just beginning. The stones, they've bonded with your wounds now. They will slowly work their magic into your system to pull the venom out. It will feel exactly like that, like something is being pulled from you. As the tendrils try to resist, the pain will get worse. I wish I could tell you how long it will take, but I can't. I honestly don't know. The battle is truly beginning, a fight for supremacy with your life as the prize."

"It's okay, I can take it. However long it takes," Dean said as his body stiffened with pain. "Thanks for being…straight with me…"

Paul nodded in admiration.

"Isn't there anything we can give him?" Sam practically pleaded.

"I wish I could tell you there was, but there isn't. Nothing works. You saw that at the hospital. Much as I hate to see Dean hurting, he has to get through it on his own," Paul turned to Dean, regret on his face that he couldn't do more and a glimmer of remembrance of what was to come flashed across it. "I'm sorry, son."

"It's okay. I'll be okay…" Dean tried to reassure as a wave of pain so strong hit him and he threw his head back and groaned. "Son of a…"

Two more hours had passed without any relief from Dean's unrelenting pain. John watched his son fight valiantly, admitting nothing with words, but his body spoke volumes about the assault being waged against him. Sometimes John would hear Dean talking out loud, swearing with defiance as if taunting the venom to try to take him down. John knew it was Dean's coping mechanism, his way of facing an unknown and faceless enemy. Spasms of pain riddled through Dean's body and he struggled to take deep and even breaths, only able to pant through each wave.

John watched the pain take its slow toll on his son, saw the evidence of lack of rest and nourishment in the haunting dark circles forming below his son's eyes, his skin pale, clammy, almost ashen. Every scream Dean failed to suppress, every moan, groan, whimper, and cry out told John how much Dean was hurting and he began to question if any of this was fair to Dean. Whether they were worth what he was going through because John knew Dean was fighting to live for them as much as for himself, hating to admit to himself that it may have been more the former than the latter. That thought made him realize how selfish he was.

As much as he didn't want Dean to die, to lose the son he so cherished, seeing him in agony as he was for what seemed to John all the wrong reasons, made him hate himself. Dean should be fighting to live for himself, not just so he can keep his family together. Hadn't he done enough of that in his young life? John grasped his son's arm lovingly. Sam was sitting in a chair, tired, but watchful. Dean faced his father and saw the exhaustion on his face.

"Dad, you look wrecked…get some sleep. Sammy too…I'll be okay…"

John's eyes began to fill with tears.

"Dad? What's wrong? You okay?" Dean said, concern on his face.

"Dean, I want you to know…" John started, unsure of what he was doing and yet trying to find the right words. "If it's too much, it's okay to let go…to rest."

Dean saw the guilt across his father's face. Sam heard John's words and jumped out of his chair.

"Dad! What are you saying?" Sam lashed out.

"I'm telling Dean that he doesn't have to suffer, that he's done enough. He's holding on for us and it's not fair to him."

"FAIR? What could you possibly know about being fair? How can you tell him that! You're giving him permission to die! What kind of father are you? You should be acting strong for him, giving him a reason to live, telling him that you love him and that you want him to live, that you don't want him to leave. He's your SON! But no, giving up, that's what you're telling Dean to do. Something you're an expert on!" Sam yelled, his rage unstoppable.

John detected something in Sam's words, something that told him, he wasn't just speaking for Dean, but for himself too, that Sam was lashing out at the fact that John hadn't asked him to stay, had just told him to leave and to never come back. In Sam eyes, it had been just as good as telling him that when he had left, he would have been dead to his father.

"G…guys…don't do this…" Dean struggled out, his voice barely a whisper and unable to rise above the shouts of his father and brother, unable to stand between them like he had always done.

"Sam, you have a right to be angry, but –"

"Angry? I haven't even begun to get angry, Dad."

"STOP IT! The both of you!" Paul's voice boomed. "Can't you see what you are doing to Dean? Look at him! Both of you look at him!"

Dean was moaning and sobbing, trembling with pain.

"He's fighting for his life and all the two of you can do is argue over him like he wasn't even in the room! Like he was an object. He's a man who needs you to fight **with** him, not to make him feel like he has to please you both by surviving."

John and Sam stopped. The only sound was Dean's continued labored breathing.

"If he doesn't make it, you'll have only yourselves to blame," Paul admonished.

He walked over to Dean and checked the stones. The color in them was dimming and that worried him.

John caught Paul's look.

"What? What's wrong?"

"The stones, they're dimming. They are connected to Dean and they are fading which means –"

"Dean is fading," John finished.

"Talk to him, you two. I don't know if the damage's already been done, but it's about time he hears what he needs, what he deserves to hear from the both of you."

"How can we? Dad's given him a reason to die…" Sam said then admitting, "We both have."

"Excuses like that are why he's losing the battle. John, you may have thought you were helping Dean, but you don't know your son at all. Living for you and Sam is what makes him who he is, he thrives on helping people, helping you two, much as it takes from him, it gives back too. And Sam, you don't want to lose Dean because you feel you've let him down. Instead of wanting him to live because you feel guilty, maybe you should see your brother for who he is instead of what you want him to be. I'll leave you both to think on that."

Paul then turned to Dean again, squeezed his shoulder. Dean looked up at him, his eyes, filmy and tired.

"Dean, your family needs you. Don't know what would happen to them if you left them, but what I do know is that it's not a weakness to love as you do, to love for no reward other than the loving, to live for them. Still, you need to live for yourself too. It can't be just all about them. If you can still believe that it's worth it, that they're worth it then fight and fight hard."

Dean nodded and smiled.

Dean then grabbed on to Paul's arm for purchase and grunted through another wave of pain. John and Sam joined them. Paul gave him anything he could, held onto to him as well, to give Dean a sense of anchor.

John bent over, his face filled with shame for his behavior, but pride for his son.

"I'm sorry, son. Paul's right. I had no right to tell you to let go. I've been ordering both you boys around for too long. Can't promise I can change, too old and too set in my ways, but you need to know that I'm proud of you. I'm proud of you both," John said as he turned to look at Sam. It was the truth.

Sam felt his father's honesty and believed him.

"I…I know, Dad," Dean said.

"Dean, I'm sorry too. You've always been there for me so now it's my turn," Sam said, but found the emotions rushing in. "I need you, man."

"W…Winchesters, we don't quit…right?"

Dean then clenched his eyes closed and screamed a low growl, panting hard and arching up from the altar. Paul watched him carefully and saw the stones radiate orange then they slowly began turning red, deepening as every minute passed.

"Not…going to get me…you bastard…" Dean groaned out.

Paul watched Dean and found himself remembering the pain he had gone through and his empathy allowed him to share the pain Dean was experiencing. If he could take away any of the pain, he would for this young man. It didn't take being an empath to realize that this young man was different, special, was needed and not just by his family.

John and Sam could only grasp Dean's hands as he squeezed the circulation from them.

The stones began to glow and fade, glow and fade as if alive and strobed to a rhythm of their own. Then it glowed bright, turning blood red. Dean's breathing became rapid and he was grunting as if something was being removed from him without the benefit of anesthesia.

Paul saw the terror in Sam's eyes and the dark worry in John's.

"This is good. The stones are pulling the venom out. Dean is reacting the way you'd expect. He's feeling the pull. I know it doesn't feel like it, but it's almost over."

Paul turned to Dean.

"Not far to the end now."

Dean could only nod and breathe. It was all he had energy for. Paul was right, he was feeling better or at least, he felt the venom leaving his body. He wasn't sure how his body would come out of the whole thing, but all he could think about at that moment was relief and sleep.

He took whatever energy he had left to turn and face his family.

"It's gonna be okay. I'm gonna be okay," Dean reassured.

"We know, son. We're here for you," John said, his voice gravelly.

As the stones stopped glowing, the blood red hue remained. Paul became relieved and seeing Dean's pain ease and his breathing calm just confirmed with physical evidence that Dean had come through the worst of it. Healing would be the next hurdle, but he felt that Dean's strength though a little depleted was not diminished.

Paul explained the situation and told John and Sam that they should get some rest now while they can, that he would watch Dean. Though they were reluctant, Paul reminded them that they wouldn't be any good to Dean as they were. They couldn't argue with their bodies cry for sleep and went into the other room and collapsed onto the bed. Sleep was instantaneous.

Paul looked over at Dean who was still fighting through the remaining pain and was still unable to fully sleep. Paul knew that it would come eventually.

"Where's Dad and Sam?" Dean asked.

"Sleeping," Paul answered.

"Good…they could use it…they looked like Hell," Dean joked.

Paul smiled. He marveled at Dean's ability to lighten any serious situation with a joke.

"How are you feeling?"

"I've been better, but I think the worst of it is over. You tell me."

"It is. The rest is healing, sleeping, eating."

"Well, then I must on the road to recovery because I'm starving…" Dean said, but a twinge of pain rippled through him and the thought of food quickly left. "Maybe later though."

Paul laughed then became pensive.

"Something on your mind?" Dean queried.

"You can leave, you know. Like Sam did," Paul said.

Dean became serious.

"Suppose I could, but don't want to. It's what I do."

"Willingly?"

"Yeh, I'm not good alone. Never have been…my family…they mean everything," Dean said without a note of regret in his voice.

"But you can't live just for them, son."

"I know. Sam's always wanted something else and he should get it or have a chance at it. This life, it's not for him. It is for me."

"How do you know?"

"I've always known. Don't ask me how, but as soon as Dad put a gun in my hand, I knew. Sam thinks Dad's holding me back. He isn't."

"Your brother and father –"

"Like oil and water. Yeh. Always have been, always will be," Dean heaved a sigh, feeling the exhaustion creep in. "I can't change them, but I can be there for them."

Paul was impressed at Dean's awareness of his family life.

"You must have resentments."

"Yeh, but not about this life, not about having Sam and Dad around. I could've lost them too when our mom died. Only resentment I carry is that she's not here, that Dad loved her so much that he can't let the vengeance for her killer go. I can't change that. Wish I could, but I can't."

"You miss your mom?"

"Every day," Dean said quickly and definitively. "Everyday I watched Sam grow up, I thought about how much he needed her. Everyday I watch my dad drink himself into numbness, I remember how he barely touched the bottle when she was alive. Call it a blessing or a curse, but remembering my mom, knowing the kind of woman she was, it stinks that she's not here for them. For me too, but at least I had her for awhile. Sam never got to have that time with her."

"Why don't you carry that vengeance?"

Dean thought for a minute.

"Because I see what it's doing to my dad…We both can't be on liquid diets…Sam needs someone. Besides, mom, she wouldn't want me to give in. She'd want me to take care of them."

Paul nodded in admiration. He stopped talking as he realized that Dean was finally falling asleep and let him drift. Dean had earned it.

A week had passed and Dean was healing well. The ritual and the stones had also repaired whatever other damage Dean had suffered in his fight with the monster. He wasn't 100%, but he was walking, if slowly and his appetite was back to normal, fueling his recovery. John feared that Dean would eat Paul out of house and home, but it pleased him to see Dean acting like his old self again.

Paul had insisted that they all stay until Dean was on his feet and they had gladly accepted his hospitality. John and Sam offered their muscle around the cabin to repay Paul for his help and for saving Dean's life. Paul accepted the help, but truth be told, he enjoyed the company.

Later that night, Sam sat drinking a beer with his father. Dean, still weak, tired easily and had cashed in early.

"I'm sorry, Dad. For what I said."

"No need. I deserved every word."

Sam fumbled with his bottle and looked over at his dad.

"I made a promise to Dean. He wants me to go back to school and I told him that I would, but I'm not so sure I should."

John understood.

"Dean wants more for you. I do too and I'm sorry it didn't sound that way back then. That night, I've replayed in my head over and over and wished I had done better. There are a lot of things I had wished I done better or differently, but Sam, keep your promise to Dean. If you stay, Dean will never forgive himself for dragging you back in."

"What if I want back in?" Sam said tentatively.

"Think on it, son. Make sure you do. Do that for yourself and for Dean. It's okay. Go back."

Sam smiled.

"Thanks, Dad."

John returned the smile.

Another week had gone by and Dean was firmly on his own two feet. He had nagged Sam to go back to school, but Sam had insisted staying until Dean was fully recovered. Now that he was, it was time for them to leave Paul.

"Thank you, Paul. For saving my son," John said as he shook his hand.

"It was a privilege, John. Take care of them boys of yours."

John nodded.

"Yeh, thanks, Paul. We owe you everything," Sam said as he, too, shook Paul's hand.

"Good to meet you, son. Listen to your heart. It will never steer you wrong. Take care of yourself," Paul advised in a grandfatherly way.

Dean came up to him and Paul took him into his arms with a bear hug, taking Dean by surprise. When they parted, Paul's eyes were rimmed with tears.

"Thank you," Paul said.

"For what? For emptying your fridge?" Dean joked, but he saw on Paul's face something else. Loss.

"For reminding me of my son," Paul said as Dean gave him a confused look. "You see, I lost my son shortly after I broke out of the venom's grip. He went after it for what it had done to me. I told him not to, but he had vengeance in his heart and I was too weak to stop him. The monster got him too before I finally killed it. He didn't make it though…like I did…like you did."

Dean stood speechless at Paul's admission.

"Take care of yourself, son. You're everything to that family of yours. Don't you ever forget that."

Dean could only nod and put a reassuring hand on Paul's shoulder.

The three of them then climbed into the van and drove off. Dean stared into the side view mirror as Paul's image got smaller and smaller. He took in a breath and remembered what Paul had told him earlier:

"_Dean, your family needs you. Don't know what would happen to them if you left them, but what I do know is that it's not a weakness to love as you do, to love for no reward other than the loving, to live for them. Still, you need to live for yourself too. It can't be just all about them. If you can still believe that it's worth it, that they're worth it then fight and fight hard."_

Dean had decided to keep those words of advice close. His family was worth it, but he also knew that payback was never far away, if you weren't careful what you wished for.

**FIN. Whew! Finally finished it. Really am happy at how it turned out. Sorry if I may have gotten just a little heavy and heavy handed with the guilt and angst, but hey, I'm notorious! Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks again for your reviews and for sticking with it.**


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